A/N: So I think it's safe to say I won't be finishing this before the new season starts. That's okay, maybe it'll be good to include more canon things into my story, even if only in passing. And again, sorry it took a while to get this up. I went on vacation for four days, and then I just kept myself away from the computer/internet for a while once I got back. And unfortunately, I also just couldn't get myself to write. Anyway, hope you like this.

As soon as Stiles and the Sheriff walked into Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital, they were met with the usual blast of cold air and the vague smell of disinfectant. Stiles held the baby closer and made sure she was bundled up well enough in her blanket. The ER was fairly empty for a Saturday night in Beacon Hills, and the reception area had a few sparse Fourth of July decorations.

When they got to the front desk, both Stiles and the Sheriff breathed an involuntary sigh of relief when they saw Melissa there. The part of Stiles that saw Melissa as a sort of mother-figure in his life had been inexplicably nervous at the idea of her being there. The thought of telling her and seeing her reaction felt almost as distressing at the thought of telling his dad had been. But then when he'd seen her standing there, he was grateful she would be the one to help him. He wouldn't trust anyone else.

Upon seeing that neither Stilinski appeared to be hurt or especially panicked, Melissa smiled and walked over to them, taking a moment to even notice the tiny baby in Stiles's arms. "Hi, what brings you two . . . is Stiles holding a baby?" Her face showed a certain amount of concern. She'd known Stiles for a very long time, but even for him this was unexpected.

"Yeah, she's a newborn, about an hour old?" Stiles nodded in agreement and the Sheriff continued, "We're bringing her in under the Safe Haven law."

"Usually it's the mother who brings the baby in. Do you know who she is?"

"Malia Tate."

"She, uh, didn't know she was pregnant," Stiles said. The more he said it, the more unbelievable it sounded. "So after she had the baby she . . . took off. We were kind of hoping we could keep her out of this?"

Melissa stepped forward and removed the stethoscope from around her neck in order to listen to the baby's breathing. "I don't know. Child Protective Services are going to ask who brought her in. It has to be the child's mother, though I guess the father would be . . ."

She trailed off when she saw the look on Stiles's face then, all wide-eyed and nervous. Somehow in that moment, with the sound of the baby's heartbeat in her ears, she knew. She looked up at the Sheriff in surprise. He nodded with a strained and sad sort smile on his face. Melissa looked at Stiles again. It broke her heart to see his chin slightly shaking as he looked at his baby. His baby. It was hard to imagine.

"Oh Stiles," she said, putting a comforting hand on his back. He had to be so scared, so sad and guilty to be giving her up. She could feel herself tearing up on his behalf. Not knowing what else to say in that moment, she settled on, "She's beautiful."

"That she is," the Sheriff agreed.

"Sarah?" Melissa said, glancing over her shoulder to another nurse standing nearby. "We've got a Safe Haven baby here, only an hour old. Can you bring her up to the NICU? Let them know we have a possible preemie but her heart and breath sounds are good."

Sarah nodded and approached Stiles with a friendly smile. She reached for the baby, but Stiles took an unconscious step backward. Suddenly this was all happening too fast, and he needed answers before he could just hand her off to a stranger.

He asked Melissa, "What's gonna happen to her?"

"They'll do some tests on her to be sure she's healthy, especially since she's on the small side. They'll check her lungs to be sure she's breathing fine on her own, things like that."

"How long will she have to be in the hospital?"

"If there aren't any complications, she shouldn't need to be here any longer than two or three days."

"Okay." At that Sarah stepped forward to take the baby, but Stiles backed away again. He could feel his arms shaking and the baby was starting to fuss again, but he couldn't let her go just yet. There was one more thing he needed to know. "Wait, if – if I do this, does that mean I have to leave?"

"You don't need to stay," the Sheriff told him. "That's the whole point of the law."

"I know. I just don't want to leave her yet. Not until I'm sure she's okay."

"Of course you can stay," Melissa smiled kindly.

Once he was sure this wasn't the last time he'd see her, he finally let Sarah take her from him. As he watched her walk away the baby, he somehow felt relieved and lonely all at the same time. Relieved because it physically pained him to look at her when he knew he would likely be giving her up, but he was still sad to suddenly have her farther than a room away from him since the moment she'd been born.

Melissa turned to Stiles and said, "We have some forms for you to fill out, if you're willing. And I'll update you as soon as I can." When Stiles didn't respond, she leaned closer to look him in the eyes. "I promise we'll take very good care of her."

A couple of hours later, the Sheriff returned from the hospital cafeteria with some food, but Stiles didn't have the stomach for it. The Sheriff chewed on a stale sandwich and watched Stiles pace in front of him.

"They should've updated us by now, right?"

"I'm sure she's fine. You know, it's getting late –"

"Not until Melissa comes back." Stiles pulled out his cell phone and checked it. No missed calls or texts. Frustrated, he shoved it back into his pocket.

"Still nothing?"

"No, Scott hasn't texted me back yet."

"It's already after nine o'clock. Are you sure you don't want something to eat? This sandwich isn't half bad."

"Liar," he smirked and continued pacing.

The Sheriff kept watching him with a slight frown. Seeing his kid so nervous and upset was making him lose his appetite too. He put away the sandwich and sighed, rubbing at the stress headache that was building at his temple. "Would you sit down at least?"

When Stiles didn't make the move to sit, the Sheriff got up to take hold of him and forcibly sat him in the seat beside his own. Not that this did much good, as Stiles's legs still jumped and his fingers drummed nervously on his knees.

The Sheriff opened his mouth to speak, to offer any platitude that could possibly calm his son, but he was interrupted by Melissa's return. Stiles saw her approaching and practically jumped out of his seat. "How is she?"

Melissa smiled, which calmed Stiles's nerves somewhat. Bad news didn't come with a smile. "She's doing well. Her doctor thinks she was born between 35 and 36 weeks, which is considered premature, but she's breathing fine on her own. For the most part, she's healthy and doing surprisingly well."

"For the most part?" Stiles asked. Naturally he'd zeroed in on that part.

"Her weight is lower than we'd like. She's only 5 lb. 3 oz."

"Is that bad? I mean –" Stiles wiped away at the sweat that was forming on his brow. He hated the thought of her being sick because they'd been careless. "Sure, she's small, but . . ."

"As long as she's able to put on weight, she should be fine. She already ate for the first time, and she seems to be a really good eater."

The Sheriff smiled. "Well, that's good to hear."

"What else?" Stiles asked. Somehow he knew there was more.

"Her body temperature is a little low. They've put her under a heat lamp to raise it."

"What causes something like that?" The Sheriff wondered.

"It's a normal health issue with most preemies. Sometimes it's an indicator of an infection, but so far there are no signs that she has one. In fact, she's already improving surprisingly fast. Her doctor and nurses are amazed at how well she's doing, considering the circumstances."

"That's great," the Sheriff chuckled in relief as he clapped Stiles on the back. "She's a strong one."

"You have no idea," Stiles said.

"What do you . . . oh. You're saying she's a werecoyote, like Malia?" When Stiles only looked at him, the Sheriff nodded, "Right, of course she is."

Stiles really hadn't known how his father would react to that piece of information. It was one thing to know your kid was friends with supernatural creatures, but it was quite another to learn your own infant grandchild was a werecoyote too. "That doesn't change anything for you, does it?" He didn't think it would, be he still had to be sure.

The Sheriff was shocked by the question. "No, of course not. She's still my . . . my granddaughter. Look, that's not what's important right now. She's first and foremost a baby with needs, so let's focus on the best way to get those needs met, okay?"

"Even if the best way isn't with me."

He sighed, pulling Stiles in closer. "Yes, even then."

"Stiles, would you like to see her again?" Melissa asked.

He took a moment to think about it. All that time he'd been waiting, he'd wanted to see her one more time before he went home. But now something was giving him pause. "Is she in one of those incubator things, hooked up to machines and stuff?"

"Yes, she's in an incubator for now, and she's hooked up to a monitor and has an IV."

"Ah . . ." Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head a little. He hated the idea of her being stuck with needles. "I don't think I can see her like that."

"You know, Stiles, it looks a lot scarier than it really is –"

"Yeah, sure," he interrupted, backing away from her, from both of them. "Still, I just, uh, I can't stay."

Before he knew what he was doing, he had turned around and started walking away. In that moment, nothing felt more important than getting some air. In the three or so hours since the baby had been born, Stiles felt as if he'd had yet to take a full breath. He just needed to get away for a while, to panic in private, to think, to decide what to do next. And he couldn't do that in the hospital.

Stiles made himself feel better about leaving her by promising himself he'd be back. It wasn't the last time he would see her. He'd back with Malia. She'd see her baby, and they would talk about what to do and no matter the choice they made, they would at least make it together. It was a small hope, but he held onto it.

The Sheriff watched his son's retreating back, and turned to Melissa. They exchanged heartbroken looks, as they so often did when it came to their children. "I should get him home."

"He'll be fine," she assured him. "They'll all be fine."

"I hope so."

"Oh, I wanted to give him this." Melissa handed him a piece of paper. "It's a copy of the code on her ID bracelet, in case he wants see her again or, you know, get her back."

"Thanks," he said, folding it up and putting it in his pocket. Then suddenly, the Sheriff was all business. "Listen, has anyone contacted Child Protective Services yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Good. I know in these situations, the hospital is supposed to contact CPS as soon as possible, but technically they have up to 48 hours. I'm just asking you to give him 24."

She smiled and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Of course I can do that."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand briefly before leaving to find his son.

When they returned home, the house was completely dark. Stiles felt like he hadn't been home in days, but it had really only been a few hours. They flipped on lights as they walked through the house, and Stiles made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal he didn't really want. He sat at the table for a while and watched his cereal grow soggy. Finally the Sheriff pulled out a chair and sat with him in silence until Stiles began to rise to bring his bowl to the sink.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Stiles –"

"Dad, I honestly don't even know what I'd say at this point. I'm just gonna go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Stiles hurried to his room. He could feel the anxiety building steadily, and he didn't want to subject his dad to it. He could feel the familiar weight settling on his chest and the choking sensation in his throat as his hands shook uncontrollably. Stiles told himself to stay calm, to breathe normally. Easier said than done, but eventually he calmed himself down enough to try and get some sleep.

He got a solid two hours of sleep before another panic attack woke him up. "Damn it, damn it, damn it," he wheezed as he sat perched on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. His eyes were starting to burn, and he rubbed them furiously. "No, I'm not doing that," he told himself aloud. "I'm fine. You're fine."

At that moment, his cell phone started to ring. He quickly grabbed it before even checking to see who it was, but he guessed, "Scott?"

"Yeah, sorry it's taken me a while to get back to you. We didn't want to lose her trail."

"So you found her?!"

"Well . . ."

And just as fast as his excitement had appeared, it was gone. "You really haven't found her yet?"

"We've been tracking her for miles. We thought she'd be exhausted by now, but she just keeps running."

"I guess when you've got something to run from . . ." he trailed off, and they sat in awkward silence.

Scott cleared his throat. "How's the baby?"

"She's fine, I guess. I mean, she's really small and cold and apparently covered in wires, but fine."

"That doesn't sound fine, Stiles."

"No, don't listen to me. She's fine, really. Ask your mom, she was there."

"Okay, good. Look, we're not giving up yet. It's only been a few hours. We'll keep looking, and we'll find her."

Stiles thanked him again, they said their goodbyes, and he crashed back onto his pillow. He just lay there for the longest time, wondering what he should do. Perhaps he should have offered to help them look for Malia instead of just lying there and doing nothing. Even though he was just a human, he'd always helped before. He was the one who figured things out. Hadn't he helped out as much as anyone when Jackson was terrorizing everyone as the kanima, or when Jennifer was sacrificing people left and right? Hadn't he gone through as many precarious situations as anyone else, armed with nothing more than a baseball bat? Yes, he had, but somehow in this situation he felt utterly and completely useless. So he stayed exactly where he was.

Right before he fell asleep again, he thought of calling Lydia. In the months after Nogitsune and everything that had happened last semester, Stiles and Lydia had actually become real friends. He wasn't sure how it happened. It was a sort of gradual thing that caught them both by surprise. More than once he'd comforted her when she'd cried about Aiden. Once or twice he sat with her in Allison's hospital room when she didn't want to be there alone as she waited for her best friend to wake up. And during those rare occasions when he'd doze off while they watched a movie, a couple times he'd woken up screaming from a Nogitsune-fueled nightmare and she'd calm him. He was always embarrassed when it happened, so they didn't really talk about it much, but she'd take his hand and just sit with him for a while. Lately it seemed they hung out together more often than not. He supposed he would always want more, but in the last few months, he'd found that being Lydia Martin's friend was a great thing to be.

He picked up his phone, went to his contacts, and his finger hovered over her name. Lydia wasn't the type to be home on a Saturday night, especially when she was seeing someone new, which she was. But if she was home then she was probably asleep, it being past midnight and all. It would be rude of him to wake her, wouldn't it? He silently argued with himself, thinking that Lydia wouldn't care what time it was if it was something as big as this. But every time he went to press the call button, he stopped himself. Sighing heavily, he finally put the phone away and pulled the covers over his head.

Stiles tossed and turned all night. For every hour of sleep he got, another hour was spent trying to fall back asleep after another fit of anxiety would wake him. At six o'clock, after nearly an hour of staring at the ceiling, he heard his dad moving around in the kitchen and decided he may as well get up and join him. He left on the same pants he was wearing, but traded his stretched out "Jawesome" T-shirt for a plain white one and a long-sleeved plaid. Stiles took a moment to run his fingers over the stretched neck of his old T-shirt, recalling ever vivid detail from the day before when he'd been wearing it. Then with a sad little smirk, he threw the shirt onto a chair. He'd been meaning to retire that one anyway, as it wasn't really his style anymore.

Once he made his way to the kitchen, he found his dad already dressed in his uniform. "Hey Dad."

"Morning. What are you doing up already?"

"I didn't really sleep much. What about you, already going into work?"

"Yeah, since I took off so suddenly yesterday, I figured I should go into the station and see how they're holding up."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Dad, they can survive without you for a few hours."

"I know . . . actually, if you wanted me to stick around instead, I could do that. We could talk –"

"No, no, no, don't do that," Stiles said, waving his hands. "You should go to work."

"I don't want to leave you alone. We could go to back to the hospital if you wanted –"

"Actually, I was going to head over there soon. You don't have to come with me."

The Sheriff studied his son. He didn't like the idea of Stiles sitting at the hospital by himself. "What about Scott? Or how about giving Lydia a call? Have you told her yet?"

"Not yet, but maybe I'll call her when I get there." And maybe he would. Or wouldn't. Honestly, he didn't know what he was going to do. His brain was still a jumbled mess and now every tiny decision felt like a matter of life and death. In fact, when he had to choose between two types of jam to put on his toast, he eventually went with neither. He stuck the dry piece of toast in his mouth, waved and said a muffled goodbye to his dad, and grabbed his keys.

"Wait, you need this!" The Sheriff said, handing him a folded piece of paper. "You'll need to show the nurses this copy of the baby's ID code if you want to see her."

"Right," Frankly, he wasn't sure what he would do when he got there, but he took it anyway and put it in his pocket. "See ya."

When he got to the hospital, Stiles found a small waiting room near the NICU where worried extended family members anxiously awaited for news on tiny, premature babies. Thankfully it was empty, and Stiles took a seat. He pulled out his phone again. No messages from Scott, and try as he might, he still couldn't call Lydia.

He wanted to see the baby, he really did. He wanted to be sure that she was still improving, that she was breathing and eating and growing like she should. As the night had gone on, he'd felt increasingly guilty for leaving her there alone. Of course, sitting in a waiting room wasn't doing her much good either, but he was too anxious to see her quite yet. He actually felt as if he was glued to his seat, and no amount of silent pep talks to himself could get him leave it.

Still, he felt closer to her there. Even though she wasn't physically with him, he took some comfort in knowing she wasn't far away. He slumped down in his chair, closed his eyes, and promptly fell asleep.

A/N: Thanks again to those who've been reading, reviewing, and favoriting! Also, I know I'm not the most reliable updater, so thanks for sticking with me. Having never written a chapter fic before, I didn't realize that it's kind of hard, heh. Especially considering it just keeps getting longer and longer than I anticipated! And I guess one little tease I can give is that now I'm finally getting to the point of the story where more of the characters will meet Baby Stilinski. :)